


Home in a Body

by blackjeans



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, Fenris Worship, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Oneshot, boyfriend shirt, long haired Fenris, slight angst, vitiligo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackjeans/pseuds/blackjeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not to make things obvious, love... but whatever you're doing, it's working."</p>
<p>Fenris in a boyfriend shirt while Hawke comes home from a month-long trip. Slight AU in that Fenris has vitiligo instead of his lyrium markings. Hawke can't keep his eyes off... as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home in a Body

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've decided to dabble back in the arts of writing. I haven't published anything in give or take five years, but I figured nothing ventured, nothing gained. 
> 
> Before we start, keep in mind Fenris has vitiligo here. It wasn't part of the prompt, but it's such a rare sight in written fanworks that I wanted to shine some light into that corner. Anyways.

It has to be the thighs, he thinks.

No. The bare ankles have a subtle beauty about them that calls to him, too.

Once, he verbally accused Fenris of cheating the Maker. There was no way one could have such beautiful skin, and although his comments were always dismissed with a soft laugh through his broad nostrils and a playful push to his face, Hawke's opinion never changed.  

Even now, as he drinks in the sight of Fenris in the warm glow of the fireside, looking like every written definition of _home_ known to man, he knows he has and never will ever see anyone more stunning.

_What a sight._

The light of the fire plays with the cream tones blended into the elf's caramel skin, making it seem as if Fenris himself is glowing with an ethereal light. Splatters of coffee brown playfully reach on one side of his face and spill down his shoulders to slip beneath the white dress shirt that is obviously three sizes too big for the elf himself.  Shadows give depth to the impossible green-gold of his eyes, and Hawke swears he wouldn't look twice at Andraste herself as long as Fenris was in the room.

A small quirk lifts one corner of full lips lets Hawke know that he's been caught gawking. Fenris shifts his weight from one foot to another, the shirt, one of the mage's own, barely clinging to smooth shoulders dappled in pretty whites and a mix of subtle browns and tans that compliment each other. It slips to reveal a part of a clavicle deserving of worship.

"Not to make things obvious, love... but whatever you're doing, it's working."

Long, tapered ears that were nestled behind thick locks of white twitch into view at the rumble of his voice, fanning out in satisfaction as Fenris finally cocks his head to meet Hawke's gaze from the door.

"Hmm," the elf muses, sighing through his nose, green irises turning dark with mischief as they meet familiar honey browns that beg for mercy. "Is it?"

Crossed arms elegantly hug the shirt to his nearly exposed chest, looking dangerously alike to the poster girls down at the Blooming Rose, but no man in his right mind would dare to ruin this rare moment of open and carefree seduction from the person of their desires.

Fenris' hair has grown significantly in both volume and length since he last saw the elf before leaving for a social calling in both Tevinter and Orlais alike. The weathered red favor is used to tie back the longer pieces of hair that rest in curls just at his mid-back. The sight of it tickles at his heart strings while leaving a funny tingle at the tips of his calloused fingers.

Hawke takes a much needed step forward, and as if a part of a choreography, Fenris immediately steps back just as much.

"Huh." The taller of the two lets his head fall to the side in question.

Wordlessly, Fenris tilts his head back as if issuing a challenge.

"Problem?" Hawke asks.

"No. _You_?" Fenris returns, taking another step back.

"No," The mage replies, the smile evident in his voice as he plays along. "I just didn't know you were into playing  _cat-and-mouse_."

Fenris twists in one flowing motion on his feet with a soft laugh to orient himself forward, footsteps light and silent even on wooden steps.

"Is that what you're calling this?" A hand trails behind him on the handrails of the staircase.

"Well, I wasn't really given a description to start with, was I?" Hawke jogs up himself to catch up, but before Fenris lets him collide into the elf, he stops just a step short. Using the rail himself as support, the mage practically wilts against the wooden beam, resting his cheek onto the varnished surface as he stares up at the other.

"You... _Fenris_ , you're so..." Hawke's too caught up in the moment to find a suitable word.

"... Go on."

" _Amazing_ ," he finally sighs out, and Fenris takes a moment to pointedly stare down at him before using the collar of Hawke's shirt to hide his smile. He darts away out of Hawke's view, presumably into the bedroom that they've taken to share more than the nights they spend apart. Hawke wastes no time himself conquering the rest of the steps by taking leap of two, composing himself before following in after Fenris who can be seen smiling from ear to ear, blushing in earnest.

It wasn't always easy complimenting him.

Hawke hates to use the word _groomed_ but that's what everyone whispers about him, saying it's the polite way, that no one should really use the _real_ word because it's _too_ _much_.

He told Hawke that he was only kept alive because of his tolerance for pain, but Hawke thinks he just wants to bury the fact that they were always testing on _him_ because he was one of the _abnormalities_.

The first time Hawke told Fenris he was beautiful, the elf recoiled as if he were burned. He took it as an insult more than the actual insults that were _meant_ to break him, told Hawke to _stop making fun of him._

They told him he was born with multicolored skin because not even the Maker could decide his worth.

And Fenris believed them until they were nothing but facts.

The first time Hawke accidentally walked in on Fenris covering up his speckled skin with bottles and bottles and bottles of make up just to seem like his skin was, for once _, one shade_ that was barely normal to humans and elves alike, he was stunned more by Fenris' vocal shame than he was by the truth of his skin's condition.

Hawke remembers how Fenris looked at him different when he used the word _helpless_ instead of _useless_ and just how much of a difference it made that Hawke treated him as if he were normal, how it affected his expressions and posture.

_He was helpless in that he was never told what it meant to just look at your own reflection and think, 'I'm okay the way I am.'_

But now, to see him without any trace of attempt at hiding his so-called blemishes, his so-called brands?

To see him smile so openly at being called beautiful, in nothing but a shirt of his own, quietly confident in his ability to impress the one he harbors feelings for?

"Love," Hawke smiles, chasing Fenris' hand with his lips as they bury beneath the covers, kissing a wet trail up to his large, floppy ear that flicks in eager response to his name, "Promise me something."

"If it's to adopt all the living dogs in Kirkwall again, I humbly refuse," Fenris rumbles sleepily against Hawke's cheek, subconsciously nuzzling into the untamed stubble. "But I'm listening."

He can't help but grin against the elf's temple. "I'll get back to convincing you on a later date, you just wait. But listen," Hawke softens his tone, the joker in him briefly casted aside for now. "Are you listening, love?"

"Hmmm."

"Good. Promise me..." Hawke tucks Fenris into his arms, his shirt and all, while one heavy leg is thrown over the elf's own thighs in a comfortable toss. Fenris lets out a small, 'oof!' in complaint, but does nothing more than shift his head back so that their eyes can meet. Hawke feels his nerves unwind as fingers quietly urge him to speak by trailing fingers in a rhythm against Hawke's arm hairs.

"Promise me that when it's time for me to go, that you'll be the angel guiding me down the river and back to the Maker."

Fenris chuckles, and Hawke smiles at the way the vibrations carry on into his own throat. The elf quiets down with a small, but firm nod against Hawke's sternum.

And it's then, in the quiet seconds that pass by that Hawke knows he wouldn't trade anything that this world has to offer for that very moment that renews their promise, with Fenris lounging in his arms wearing nothing but his shirt.

Fenris draws one of Hawke's hands to his warm thigh and Hawke knows he's _home_.

"I always did enjoy following you."

**Author's Note:**

> Is this an obscure oneshot in hopes of attracting some new friends to beta this and my future works? Maybe.  
> Am I trying to reel in potential RP partners by exposing my writing for the world to see? Perhaaaaaaaaps. Heh.
> 
> I just really wanted to put something out there in tribute to my recent obsession. I'll be exploring the dynamics of Fenhawke more critically in the future with bigger projects, but for now... I just want to let this one small thing float. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Ciao. xo


End file.
